Amanda Brinke and Joan Justice deliver powerful performances in Albany Civic Theater's production of " 'night, Mother," a two-character 1983 drama by Marsha Norman about a woman who tells her mother at the beginning of the play that she will kill herself that night. It gives away nothing to say that, 90 minutes later, she does.

Justice is especially moving as Thelma, the mother, who was married young to a farmer and now, as she approaches her senior years as a widow, has settled into a deep daily routine of doing crochet, nibbling on candies, watching TV and chatting away with her adult daughter, Jessie (Brinke), who has lived with her since getting divorced. Without a hint of condescension to the character, Justice creates a portrait of a simple country woman who's a bit flighty and a bit of a gossip and tries her limited best to dissuade her daughter from her stated mission. Though not smart or savvy, Thelma instinctually knows to try a variety of tactics, from jokes to pleading to guilt to rage, to keep Jessie alive.

But Jessie is resolved, and Brinke makes her determination palpable without overplaying it as grim or self-pitying. It takes deftness from the author and balance from the actress to make Jessie's decision comprehensible, and, however tragic, it is on ACT's stage. Adult life has bitterly disappointed Jessie. Unable to work because of epilepsy and her own social awkwardness, Jessie was abandoned by her husband, her estranged son is a petty thief, and all she has is the same daily conversation with her gabby mother about the same few friends and family members.

Killing herself is a way to find peace — "dark and quiet," she says — and a way of exerting control over her life in a way she's never felt she had. She tells her mother, "This is how I have my say. ... I say no. Just let me go, Mama."

Director Nate Benyon and the actresses pace the play with exquisite modulation. As Jessie prepares for suicide, she alternate between trying to explain her decision to her mother, making sure Thelma understands the basics of shopping and household chores, and reverting to the comfort of daily routine. Norman's script is full of subtle touches that reveal much about the characters while still sounding like everyday conversation. In explaining how the kitchen is organized, for instance, Jessie says, "In this drawer we have everything there's no better place for."

Given the subject matter, Norman's script also has a surprising amount of wit. Discussing a batty friend's diet, Thelma says, "You can't eat okra willy-nilly two meals a day and expect to get away with it. It made her crazy." About the same friend's claim of using "Irish yarn" for her crotchet, Thelma says, "I know it doesn't come from Ireland. I think it just comes in a green wrapper."

Time hangs heavy on the stage during "'night, Mother." The house manager announces before the performance that it will run 90 minutes, no intermission. Rich Montena's excellent set, of a simple, well-lived-in country home, has three clocks on it. As mother and daughter talk, they track inexorably toward the end.